The road unwinds like ribbon at my feet

There is just so much to do.

Mostly it's good stuff (y'know, aside from the Day Job). People to see, events to attend, fun to be had out in the world.

It's exhausting. I love it all, and my schedule is filled brim-full with The Things I Do... and I miss night upon quiet night of doing nothing much. I love my friends and I wish I could see all of them more often... but I pass up the chance of seeing them to stay in my house and fold laundry by myself. Tonight I skipped the contra dance to stay home, do a couple of very minor chores, and start watching a new mystery series on Netflix. (Shetland, if you're interested. So far I'm fine with it, although most of what I can say about it is that the landscape they're filming in is incredibly striking and also they seem to have color-shifted everything very grey.)

I realised the other day that I hadn't even logged into my Netflix account in at least a month. Living with Peter, it just doesn't work to throw a show on while I'm doing something else if he's going to be in the room at all. It either distracts him from what he's doing and wears him down, or he gets way more tuned into it than I am and asks questions and wants to pause it while he's out of the room, which is... not how I treat casual television. So I kind of default to just not watching anything with a plot anymore, which means a lot of youtube videos and not a lot of working through my netflix queue. Not a lot of fanfic, either, since I can't obsessively re-run old favorites in the background to get the feel right in my head.

It's weird right now, is what I'm saying. The introvert in me is constantly looking for a nice place to get away from all of these fabulous people I love, and since I never find it (because when we're not out somewhere together, Peter and I are home together, which is still not the same as being alone even if it is way easier to deal with than constantly being around anybody else), I never do the mental vacation stuff I used to.

The Song of the Whinybutt

Luna has this thing she does when she's released in the morning, where she comes into the bedroom singing the song of her people ("Woe, woe, woe is meeeeeeow...") and looking at me in a very pointed way. She usually follows it up by jumping up to stand on my keyboard until I pick her up and/or make room in my lap. Sometimes, she's singing for cuddles and lap time, and on those days she settles down with an air of supreme satisfaction. Other days, like today, the respite is only temporary, and down she goes again (with another stop on the keyboard, of course, because none of the cats can get on or off the bed without stepping on a keyboard, even if they have to go out of their way to do it). On these days, it turns out the song is actually "Woe, woe, woe, let meeeeowwt."

Not for nothing is one of her many names Whinybutt.